Pools of Ash
by BookwormBelle
Summary: DMHG, Draco leaves his father, but doesn't join anyone else. Why should Hermione care? Chapter 5 up!
1. Prologue

A/N: Welcome! This is my story. Sorry if it is bad!  
  
A small boy watched from his vantage point, hidden behind the frame of the doorway he was peeking through. He gasped, watching the conversation his father had ordered him out of the room for. He was being so loud! He was never like this, even when he was angry with Mother, and even then, the boy could hear every word from his room. Now, the imposing figure towered over the cowering man.  
  
  
"You cannot find the Dark Lord, you say?" Came the crash of thunderous words. "You say you have no intention of going to the Ministry? You do not lie to me. I know your every thought!" With a growl likening him to the graceful, wild dogs he resembled, the man grasped his wand. "You do not betray the Dark Lord, and more importantly, you do not betray me." The malice in that one last word made the small boy close his eyes, knowing that nothing good could happen next.  
  
  
"Crucio." Came the whisper. Not a whisper of fear, or weakness, for this man left all those feelings behind long ago, but a whisper of pure hate. Hate accumulated through a lifetime, and channeled through every action he made. Around the corner, tiny hands slipped under fair, blond hair, trying to block the hideous screams penetrating his ears.   
Footfalls echoed through the suddenly silent house, the click of metal tipped boots against the cold stone of a manor. Boldly, with the recklessness of a boy spoiled, small feet stumbled over themselves, seeking reason in this great paternal figure. When finally, the boy caught up, he was ignored.  
  
  
"Father?" Silence. "Daddy?" Annoyed silence. "Why did you hurt him?" A head turned slowly, shoulder length hair shifting to reveal menacing eyes.   
  
"You saw me?" he steadily tore the words out, an unspoken threat, perceptible to all living things that have ever known hardship.   
  
"It is bad to hurt. Mother says so. You said the Dark Lord was our friend, why would he want you to hurt?"   
  
"You insolent child. I expressly forbade you from staying."  
  
Back swung the hand, which had, so soon before caused a person so much suffering. Forward, it whipped, striking the child across the face, and sending him reeling into the wall. He cried out, his screams quickly subsiding into sobs at the threat of more fury from his father.   
  
His face was cut and bleeding, from the rings on that man's hand. The crimson mingles with his tears, as he forced himself to look up. His eyes connected with hers, deep, rippling pools of ash.   
  
  
And, far away, many years later, Hermione Granger woke with a start, still haunted by those pleading eyes. 


	2. Chappie 2

A/N: (thanks for the review!)  
  
Unfeeling and alone, Draco Malfoy strode down the platform, crowds parting, despite the lack of his usual cronies. His mind whirling at recent events, Draco paid them no mind, And turned abruptly to climb the steps onto the train. Slumping into an empty compartment, his face altered, contorting from the adult, indecipherable expression that he was used to, to that of a confused, lonely sixteen year old, whose life has been forever changed.  
  
His whole life, he had been preached to about how almighty the Dark Lord was, and how he would someday rise again, stronger then ever. It was all too easy to say that when the great git was dead. Malfoy, personally, never really believed that the. thing would come back. As much as he hated to admit it, he actually had faith that stupid Potter would prevent that from happening, like he always did. Draco had never actually given a second thought to his future. Just like his father, he would inherit the family fortune, and be a huge, public figure that never really did anything. Not a whole lot to think about.  
  
Now, everything was different. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned, and Draco was expected to go out, and kill. His father always taught him not to show emotions, or aversions to anything, but Draco never could stomach the screams that emanated from the sitting room when he was young. He used to curl up in his blanket until it stopped, and then pretend it didn't bother him. This hardened young man hated heartless shell that was his father, and that was why he had turned down his future. Refused to be a Death Eater.  
  
*****  
  
Hermione Granger sat in a listless silence, only barely listening to the banter between her two best friends. She hadn't slept well the night before, that was for sure. She had had a dream, but she couldn't remember what had been so clear when she woke up. It had been sad, but that was about all she could get out of it.  
  
" Hermione, I'm afraid you've failed all of your exams." Harry stated in his most calm, professor-like voice. Immediately, Hermione was alert.  
  
"Bloody Hell!" slipped from the mouth beneath her wide-open eyes. Looking around, she remembered where she was, and promptly clipped Harry on the shoulder with her fist. "Guys! Don't do that!"  
  
"Well, you were pretty out of it," Ron responded, "It's the only thing that's worked before!"  
  
"Well, just don't do that! I was only thinking. I can't remember the dream I had last night, and it's been bugging me." Understatement! She'd been out of it and depressed ever since she woke up! She knew it wasn't lack of sleep, because she had slept almost exactly nine hours, as she did every night. This dream simply didn't feel normal. She felt cold, somehow empty, and she couldn't remember one bit of why.  
  
"Well, we're at school now, so shrug it off." Ron said, with his normal amount of tact and refinement.  
  
"Thank you, Monsieur Weasely, we all appreciate your graceful conversation skills." She teased gently, trying to slip back into her normal self. Brushing her glossy curls away from her face, Hermione stood, gathering her slumbering cat onto her shoulder.  
  
Making her way down the corridor, caught up in the stream of students, Hermione halted unexpectedly as a boy clad in swirling, stone grey robes slid out of the compartment in front of her. She met his cold, unfeeling eyes, and a shiver journeyed down her spine. Her mouth opened, about to ask him what was wrong, but her archenemy turned on his heel and stalked down the passage before her.  
  
******  
  
As Draco crept out of him compartment, he was unable to feel anything other then cold. Every part of his body and soul seemed to be encased in ice, shutting him off from the rest of humanity. Emerging into the flow of his peers, he caught momentary eye contact with the feminine representation of those he hated. He would never do anything for any of them, and expected the same courtesy in return. For some reason, though, in the half-second during which he peered into her eyes, he could find no malice. Only concern. Before he pondered on this subject too long, he turned to leave, reminding himself to close his heart, which had been unknowingly punctured by the warmth in Hermione Granger's eyes.  
  
He looked up, as he disembarked the train, his eyes stinging as they made contact with the rainwater streaming over him. His long eyelashes dripping, he boarded a carriage occupied only by a giggling group of third years, sighed and resigned himself to a corner, lost in his own thoughts. The carriage jolted forward, carrying him to the school he had once loved. Now, he saw only pointless misery behind those great, stone, walls.  
  
A/N: Review!!!! Because, when people review, I feel happy, and when I feel happy, I do happy things, like writing! Yay! I feel the need to continue writing . . . My friend's Ex is a poopy-head! Now I feel better! Again, review! 


	3. Chappie 3

From her perch on the window seat she shared with her roommates, Hermione scrutinized the text before her for two whole minutes, when she realized that she hadn't absorbed any of what she had read. With a sigh, she put down the book and stared out at the night sky. She'd been much more herself the first week of the term after her wavering start on the first day. Still, there were times when she began to wonder what all this was for. Why did she go through life, what was the point of doing well? What did it get her? A plaque, maybe, and praise from her teachers. Jerking herself our of the endless array of stars, Hermione gathered her things and laid them on her bedside table, making her way down to the common room to meet with Harry and Ron.  
  
Hermione giggled her way down the stairs, having heard Ron having a . . . heated discussion with Seamus about opposing Quidditch teams. From across the room, she could easily make out his flaming red ears, and was amusing herself by whispering a small charm to make them emanate steam. It actually looked quite realistic! Sauntering across the room, she flicked her wand towards Ron, before he could reach a mirror that would tell him why Seamus had suddenly started laughing.  
  
"Hey, guys, what's up?" She asked, flopping on the couch while her companions looked at her strangely. "What?" her eyebrows rose, looking around at the aghast/amused faces surrounding her.  
  
"You said you were going up to work on our transfiguration homework." Harry began, and then continued, as she exaggerated a nod, as if to say, "Duh". "That was two feet of parchment. You went up there ten minutes ago. Forgive us if we seem confused."  
  
"Well, I didn't do it all!" she exclaimed with a laugh, "I may be good, but I'm not that good!" It was like they saw her as some sort of mindless homework doing machine! "I couldn't concentrate, so I decided to come down and see what all you normal people are doing for a change!" she relaxed as her companions burst into comfortable smiles. She was lucky to have so many friends who cared about whether she was insane or not.  
  
****  
  
Spread dejectedly across a couch, Draco Malfoy hid from his peers. Nothing heinous had happened recently, but this was something he had been doing ever since the end of summer break. He had figured that the library was the best bet for not running into any of them, because, as a self respecting Slytherin, he had hardly set foot inside himself, until he became the bane of the Dark Lord's existence. About half of his vacation had been spent crouching in the corners of his "friends'' homes, until they heard of his betrayal, at which point he had to move on.  
  
Why had he refused the post that earned fear and respect (i.e. power) from nearly every wizarding family in Europe? Certainly, he detested all his father stood for, but was that really enough to go against everything he was raised for? No. He had come to Hogwarts with those distorted visions of what was right, but, through the years, he had seen the camaraderie of the Huffepuffs to everyone, the loyalty of the Gryffindors, and even the intense devotion to ideas within his own house. Now, in all honesty, he still took pleasure in taking others off their high horses, because, if they think they're better then him, just because they weren't purebloods, then they were to be pitied, not for their plight, but for their stupidity. Being a victim means nothing in the eyes of this pale dragon. It just no longer justified killing.  
  
A second year Ravenclaw made the mistake of jolting Draco out of his peaceful reverie, earning himself a healthy cussing out. Although it was now cold and hard, nothing like the superior teasing Malfoy had doled out the year before. Now, every threat that passed his lips had a sense of meaning, as though they would be put into action if provoked. His hatred now rivaled his father's, except for one gut wrenching difference. When Lucius hated, he had a focus, a way to direct his anger. Draco has nothing. No place to direct this bitter anger, so that it stays inside him, eating away at his heart, and slowly hollowing him out.  
  
****  
  
Heart lightened by her laughing session with her friends, Hermione embarked on what would have been a leisurely stroll, had her book bag not been so heavy. She shifted it on her shoulder, and set out with renewed enthusiasm towards the serenity of the library. As she neared the intricately carved swinging doors, they slid open, not more then a foot, admitting just enough room for a dark figure to slid out, cloak pulled over his head. As he passed her, he looked up, only the barest sliver of his face visible, between the coal color of his hood, and the shadows creeping up his face. For a moment, she was amazed at he lack of expression on his face, wondering whether it was physically possible to look that neutral. Then, a wave of emotion hit her, as though it were emanating from his retreating form. Under that still visage, there had been a hard person, wrought with vengeance.  
  
She knew who it was, and she also knew that he had not taken a shot at her yet, although he would normally have teased her a dozen times by now. As embarrassed as she was to admit it, she was worried about him. She had, out of habit avoided him, but she had seen the unlucky others that happened to cross his path. He no longer stopped to consider that a teacher may be approaching, or care about anything other then his audience. He had always loved basking in the attention he received when grinding someone's books into a spilled potion, but, now, he would do nothing other then glare coldly if there was a possibility of a crowd forming. It was as if he had changed into a completely different person, unable to extract any amount of pleasure from life, not even the pleasure he derived from his normal insults. She felt sorry for him. She really did. He didn't know the happiness she did, surrounded by those who loved her.  
  
Realizing that she had been standing in the same place for over a minute, staring at what had once been Draco's retreating back, she shook her head to clear it, and passed into the safe haven of plush armchairs and the smell of musty parchment, relaxing as she entered.  
  
****  
  
There it was . . . And there it goes. . . . Sorry so short!  
  
~wuv oo~ 


	4. Chappie 4

Hi y'all! I haven't updated in.... well, forever, but i'm working on it. Pleeeeaaaase review (i don't mind flames if they're productive!).

Wuv oo all!!

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Sitting at the end of the breakfast table, Draco slowly brought his dry toast to his mouth, chewing silently. He leaned his head on the table before him, disdainfully eying the rest of his house. Some friends he had. A word from their parents, and they turn their backs on a friend they've had since childhood. Not that it mattered. He didn't need them. He was perfectly capable of making his way through life alone, but sometimes he wondered just how stupid these people were. They had more loyalty to some geezer (to whom taking candy from a baby wasn't considered a simple matter) over him. But, he reminded himself, it happened. And there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it.

As he lifted his juice, a light, grey feather drifted into the goblet, sticking to the side. Jerking his head up, he snatched a note from the impatient bird hovering near his sausage, nearly ripping the fragile stationary. As he slit the envelope with his fork, a feigned look of indifference on his face. The hawk that delivered the letter was one of a rare breed, controlled by the Malfoy family. The bird had planted a small seed of anxiety, which burrowed into his gut, obstinately refusing to budge. It took every bit of ill begotten training his father had given the boy to not show any of his inner turmoil. Searching inside himself for a tool that would help him to remain calm, he came upon the dark, imposing figure he projected on everyone else. Stonily, he meditated on the persona, quickly smothering the panic that had flared.

The letter (barely more then a note, really) bid him come to a house in Hogsmeade. Breathing heavily, Draco put the note down, and thought over his possibilities of escape, knowing instinctively that there were none. If he didn't go, his father would come to him. He was a parent, completely capable of removing Draco from school, and then he would have no options at all. He had to face his father. It didn't matter anyway. One way or another, Lucious would have his way. No matter what Draco did, the scales would forever be tipped towards his father. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Rising from the bench, he walked down the aisles of people, finishing their breakfasts. The whole day was ahead of him, with little to do but dread the coming of tomorrow. Hogsmeade weekend. It was going to be a dismal day.

Such a beautiful day! Hermione sighed, and tore her eyed from the sunny blue of the ceiling to her friends who, in the tradition of teenage boys, were being utterly disgusting. "Harry! Please, never put that much in your mouth again! I've seen _way_ to much of those eggs!"

"Sorry Hermione" grumbled Ron, purveying Harry's thoughts, as he was still attempting to swallow the mass in his mouth.

"Gee, I wonder why you're both single!" She said sarcastically, watching their eyes bulge in response to her statement. They hated it when she teased them about their love lives. Of course, there wasn't all that much to tease about, so it was all in good fun.

"I'll have you know I've turned down dozens of offers since Megan and I broke up!" Ron fumed indignantly. Harry, having finally mastered the eggs, raised an eyebrow. "Okay, two, but it's only been a week! Given their time, the girls all flock to a Weasley." Up until this point, Hermione had managed to hold in her laughter, but Ron was just too much.

"I'm so sure they do, Ron!" she choked out, grinning profusely through her toast. Slowly calming herself, she sipped her juice again, catching her breath. "What's the plan for tomorrow?" Hermione asked, inquiring about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, "Just hanging out as usual?" Almost simultaneously, both boys lowered their heads.

"I kind of told Susie I would go get lunch with her...." Ron mumbled, his guilty face carefully studying the nicks in the table.

"No big deal. So, how 'bout you Harry, escorting someone?" She could tell by his face it wouldn't be her.

"Not quite..." he shuffled, "I've got detention with Snape." When he saw Hermione's reprimanding face, he added, "I got bored! How was I supposed to know boomslang skin was combustible?"

"Is that where that explosion came fro- never mind, I really don't want to know..." Hermione knew that her friends weren't abandoning her, but she was less than happy to resign herself to wandering alone.

Her juice splashed out, soaking her sleeve, as someone behind her bumped her into the table. She looked over her shoulder to see Malfoy's retreating back. "Git," she muttered to herself, as she reached for her napkin to mop up the mess, expecting to see him smirk at her. He didn't. He just kept on walking. She almost called after him, but caught herself. Why should she care if he was sullen? Just less of him to deal with.


	5. Chappie 5

Hey y'all!! Well, here's the next chapter. Certainly hope you like it. I myself think it's a work of absolute genius ;), but i'm biased. Read on, good people, and judge for ye self!

(thanks to fireyred20 for reviewing)

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_So_, thought Draco, _This is it. This is the dump where my father thinks he's going to win me back_. Slowly, he reached his hand forward and turned the painted-over doorknob, feeling the house paint crack and chip under his hand. The door opened with a tinny squeak, and he stepped inside. His footsteps were deafening, echoing through the empty, cavernous bowels of the dwelling, unnerving him. He listened carefully, straining for a sound that might give his father away, despite knowing there would be nothing. Lucious was too clever for that; he would never be so careless.

Draco wandered into the sitting room, or so he dubbed it. A threadbare, tiny, sofa sat in the center of the room, faded and fragile. Nervously, he paced around it, hearing once again, the resounding sounds of his shoes against the hard wood floor. "Where the bloody hell is he?" he whispered, his words barely audible, even in that stark, cold emptiness.

"Draco! So glad you could come!" From around the corner came the steel-toed boots and silver tipped cane of Lucious Malfoy, positively bursting with artificial good humor. His obsidian cloak billowed miraculously in the stillness of the house, emanating a feeling of dominance and power that made the child inside Draco want to curl up in a corner. He stood firmly though, determined not to show any weakness before the man in who's shadow he stood.

"Father." His voice was like ice, his face stoic, and void of emotion, as he looked the older man squarely in the eye. Lucious walked straight past him, motioning that Draco sit on the dust-ridden couch. "No, thank you. I'd rather stand."

"I'm not the enemy here, Draco. If you accept my proposition, life will be better-- for both of us."

"No." frigid and unyielding, he pushed the word into the air, and it hung there, something you could reach out and touch.

Lucious walked right through it. "You haven't heard the terms, boy. I'm afraid that you haven't much choice." His voice transitioned slowly from one of fatherly concern to one of a threat. "You will say yes. You are my son, and I will not tolerate this insolence. I've taken you into my confidence, and you're not going to simply traipse away from your destiny on a whim."

"I'm not just one of your little puppets. I'm not going to stand and watch you tug at everybody's strings, just to kill some worthless mudblood." Draco's muscles tensed, preparing for a confrontation. "There's nothing in this for me. I go work for some freak bent on revenge and then I die. Big fucking deal. I'm living my life my own way."

His father's face tightened, and, in one swift movement, he brought the silver of his cane to the back of Draco's knees. Bent at his father's feet, his face never changed. Standing slowly, he showed no sign of pain. Silently, he met Lucious's eyes in defiance.

"The mistakes you're making now, boy, will haunt you to the grave. Your mother said to be gentle with you, but you leave me no other choice." Draco's immovable eyes widened at the mention of his mother, and his face began to weaken, but was barely given a chance. _"Crucio."_

__

And then he was on the ground. His body felt as though it were closing in on him, ribs cutting into his lungs, heart constricting, convulsing until he settled finally in fetal position. Face screwed in pain, he felt the tear on his cheek. His cuts, borne of the accumulated debris on the floor, burned at the salt, causing him to curl further.

"You will say yes. You haven't the courage to say no." Turning on his heel, Lucious left. The halls reverberated with his footsteps, leaving empty silence in his wake. Draco was alone, bleeding, bruised, and relinquished.

Seizing the opportunity away from the boys, Hermione decided to window shop (and finally be able to admire something _she_ liked without being dragged into Zonkos). Passing up the shops she saw regularly, she wandered further into the village, intent on locating the boutique Lavender had been going on about for months. After ten minutes of attempting to follow her roommate's vague directions, and not having any idea where she was, she gave up.

By this point, she pretty much had no idea where she was, but she didn't mind. She hadn't had much of a chance to simply wander lately, so she set off towards the residential side of town, being fond of the gardens and trees that reminded her of home. The gathering clouds chose the next moment to release a gentle sprinkle of rain, and she took a deep breath, savoring the crisp, clean scent around her. A year ago, she used to take walks all the time, particularly in the rain, but recently she'd almost forgotten how calming it was.

She could hear the muted chaos of customers and students, haggling and giggling a few blocks away, but the atmosphere was peaceful. Trees hung down over her, and she could actually see the droplets the rain was leaving on the petals of roses and snapdragons. Looking up, she saw a kaleidoscope of darkening leaves, which, she knew, against the darkening sky might have looked forbidding, but somehow, standing beneath its boughs, she felt safe and warm. The soft pit-pat of water on pavement lulled her, and she walked as though in a dream, lost amongst her thoughts of school, friends, and family.

Her watch beeped, and she jumped, jolted unhappily from her reverie. She heaved a sigh, realizing she had only twenty minutes to return to school before dinner started. Rather grumpy from her awakening, but still fairly serene, she made her way down a nearby alley. As it dawned on her just how far she'd wandered, she quickened her step, and nearly tripped over something draped in a cloak. She stumbled forward and looked back as the hood rose, leaving the face beneath it partially engulfed in shadow. An eye, blackened and accented by the long scrape on the cheek below, stared at her. No malice, or superior smirk, or even the look his well-known eyes had adopted recently, daring someone to talk to him.

For what seemed like forever, she simply stared back, unable formulate a thought beyond "Oh my God".

"Mal--" she began to attempt to articulate her questions, or really articulate anything, but she wasn't given the chance.

"Oi! Hermione!" Her head whipped around, and she recognized Ron, standing at the end of the alley. "C'mon, let's go! Suzie's waiting and we're going to be late!"

She turned back to Draco, but he was gone. Bewildered and unsure of what had just transpired, she followed Ron away, unable to get the image of that lone eye out of her mind.

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Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought, so i can make it better, or just to give me that warm fuzzy feeling inside. Review!!


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